Queen Me
by ForASecondThereWe'dWon
Summary: So, we all got a load of Jughead on that motorcycle in S2E1, right? This story is my imagining of the follow-up that development necessitated: putting Betty in her own helmet... and leather. Let's see how Jughead feels about *that*. Rated M because, well, if you've been reading my Bughead work long enough, you'll know they always are. Here's to season 2!


**Author's Note:**

So... I watched Riverdale S2E1 and thought, "I can work with this." Big thanks to everyone who's reviewed my Bughead stories so far. There have been quite a few. I hope you enjoy the new little Bughead moment I've created!

XO ForASecondThereWe'dWon

* * *

There was a metallic scratching coming from the living room that the trailer's thin bathroom door didn't do much to dampen. Before speaking, Betty sat and wriggled both feet through the leg holes of her new pants. There. Now she could stand and reply without falling over.

"What are you doing out there?" she called to Jughead.

"Making improvements."

His response was a mumbled shout that told Betty he was also distracted. She bent at the waist, easing the skin-tight material up her calves. So far so good. They clung to the front and back of her knees, which Betty bent and straightened experimentally. Definitely snug, but Veronica had assured her that leather always stretched out after you wore it.

"Do you think that helmet will work?" she asked.

"Yep."

Betty rolled her eyes. Jughead's reply wasn't very detailed, but she couldn't blame him if boredom was making him even less talkative than normal. Guys just didn't understand the sort of stall-to-stall chitchat girls liked to engage in during trips to the washroom or changing room. Betty had the pants halfway up her thighs when she started to struggle. She decided to switch to working on one leg at a time, bunching the material and drawing it up like pantyhose. Veronica would have known how to fill this silence with chatter if she were the one waiting for Betty. However, Betty had only come to her friend for advice and then been persuaded to let Veronica order the pants online, so there hadn't been an in-person try-on session. Heck, there hadn't been any kind of try-on session―Betty worried if she put the pants on when she was alone and they didn't fit that she'd never be able to get them off, so she'd just waited.

"You know… I could've paid for it myself. The helmet," Betty grit out, bringing the other pant leg up so that the waist now sat right below her butt. She let out a deep exhale.

"I have money from working for Fred," Jughead called back.

"Yeah," said Betty, working her fingers under the waistband and getting a good grip, "but now that you're going to be living alone, you know, _scamming the system_ , you'll need that money for groceries and stuff."

 _One big yank_ , she thought, and tugged the pants up over her backside, thanking god for seamless underwear that actually stayed in place.

"Groceries?" Jughead asked, like he was pronouncing a foreign word, "I'll need it to pay off the hamburger tab I'll be starting at Pop's."

She allowed herself one small smile then leaned her shoulders back against the rough wall, striving to raise the discrete black zipper. A miracle: it whistled right up and, with the waistband properly at her waist, Betty could finally breathe. She slumped forward and braced her hands on the chilly porcelain of the sink. Betty eyed her reflection in the tilted oval mirror, standing up straight and then raising herself on her tiptoes to try to get an idea of how the pants looked.

"Very funny, Jug. Let me pay you back."

She couldn't see too much so she lowered herself back onto her heels and popped the button through to finish fastening the pants. Her white t-shirt's hem floated down to cover it. The floor was cold, but Betty figured it would look dorky if she put her socks back on over the sleek black leather that wrapped around her ankles. It was carpeted in the other room anyway. She neatly folded the jeans she'd been wearing and tucked them into the bag she'd carried her new pants in, pushing it against the wall. Betty grasped the doorknob and gave it a sharp jerk when she twisted it, as Jughead had taught her to do when rain made the air in the trailer damp.

Stepping out, Betty looked around for Jughead. He was sitting with his feet propped up, her helmet in his hand, and a knife in one hand. When she walked out a little farther, he glanced up, back to the helmet, and up again, doing a double take.

"I think you just did," he said, his voice a little choked. Jughead's feet dropped to the floor as he eyed her from bottom to top.

"Hmm?" Betty felt herself beginning to blush, but went towards Jughead.

"Pay me back. Although," he added, rising from his chair, dumping her helmet onto the couch, and tossing the knife onto the table after flicking it shut, "I'm pretty sure I said you needed a leather _jacket_."

"You don't think these will protect me?" Betty stared down at herself, angling her neck to check the back of her legs, then rotating her whole body so Jughead could see her butt.

"I…" Jughead trailed off, looking bewildered. He ran his fingers back through his dark hair, almost in slow motion. Betty thought it would be fair to give him a second, brushing past him to pick up her helmet. She grinned. He'd been busy. There was a cartoony approximation of a queen's crown from a chess set scratched into the front of the helmet. Even with the more rounded lines and extra circles at the tips of each of the crown's spikes, it was clearly intended to match Jughead's.

"Was protection really the motive for that purchase?"

Betty turned to face him and saw that Jughead's eyebrows were raised, his gaze on her legs. She smiled to herself and walked quickly back to the bathroom, digging into the bag she'd left there, then returned to him.

"No, but it was for this one."

She tossed the package and it smacked into Jughead's stomach before he got his hands on it. Betty watched him carefully as he realized he was holding a box of condoms. His face flushed and when he lifted his head, Betty saw that the same heat had traveled to his eyes, making them burn. A smirk crept up his cheek. Betty's heart pounded, but it wasn't as fast as Jughead's footsteps before he'd slammed into her, releasing the box to wind his arms around her waist while he kissed her hungrily. Betty's eyes closed and instantly, she was right back in the moment the Serpents had interrupted. The muscles between her legs gave an expectant squeeze, grasping at nothing. In contrast, her hands grasped at everything, holding the back of Jughead's neck, stroking across to his shoulders, and roaming down his arms to tighten around his biceps. Jughead's arms slipped apart on her back, one hand going up to press between her shoulder blades while the other rubbed the small of her back until he suddenly got the nerve to grab her butt. Betty gasped a little into his mouth, then groaned when Jughead held her against him; she could feel how he was getting hard.

With Betty's sounds of encouragement, Jughead dropped his other hand, maneuvering his fingers up under the hem of her shirt. She eagerly did the same to him, sliding both hands under his charcoal t-shirt until the tips of her fingers met at his spine. Jughead kissed a little harder, so Betty kissed a little harder back, and then she was against the living room wall, his tongue pulling at hers and her shirt lifted to the lower edge of her bra while her panties got wetter and wetter. They fumbled at each other blindly so that Jughead got Betty's knee hooked over his hip, but she got his shirt off since he was the first to yield the use of his arms while she removed it. He was rocking against her, reaching up to cup her breast under her shirt when he stopped abruptly. Betty's mouth followed his when he pulled away and she had to laugh at herself. The pinch at the top of Jughead's nose told her he was feeling a little more serious.

"Didn't you talk to your mom about this?" he asked. His face was still close and his breath was warm.

"Sort of," Betty answered, confused. She could feel her own face scrunching up. "I told her that we almost did… before."

"And she was definitely against that," he confirmed.

"Of course." Betty rolled her eyes.

"And you're probably not supposed to be here alone with me either, right?"

"That wasn't explicitly stated, but yeah, probably a safe assumption." Betty laughed softly.

"Oh man, what are we doing?" Jughead's eyes widened and he stepped back. Betty's hand shot out and she took a firm hold on one of his belt loops. "Is this a mistake?" he asked.

"What? _No_. Jughead, the only mistake was me telling her anything about it. It was stupid." Betty let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes roving up to the ceiling. "I was just frustrated and I didn't know how to talk to you about it." She lowered her chin and looked Jughead in the eye. "We didn't really decide anything when we started this last time so I had no idea what I should say and―"

Jughead kissed her, quick but hard, then pulled back, smiling.

"I'm done panicking. Apparently, all my freaking out does is make you ramble. We can just talk about this rationally if you want."

"I'm, uh… I'm good, actually." Betty patted Jughead's bare chest and felt her cheeks getting pink.

"I thought you wanted to talk?"

"I did. Before. When I wasn't sure where we stood."

"But you're sure now?" Jughead's smile was starting to climb. Betty bit her lip and nodded. "And your mom…?"

"Doesn't need to know anything about it," she assured him.

"Good, because I _really_ don't want to be ambushed again."

Betty dipped her chin and looked up at Jughead with teasing eyes. She unhooked her fingers from his belt loop and smoothed her hand up his abdomen, bumping over the gradual slope of his muscles.

"Don't you?" she asked quietly.

Jughead laughed self-consciously and stepped closer. She could feel the renewed throb between his legs.

"That desire doesn't apply to you. I was not expecting this," he ran his hands over her leather-covered hips, "but I am _very_ ok with it."

"Good."

Betty slung her leg over his hip again and felt Jughead's firm fingers curl under to grasp her thigh. His blue-green eyes probed hers as he leaned in with his hips, trapping her, and drew her t-shirt up and off while Betty held her arms up obligingly. His tongue came out to touch his lower lip as he looked down her body, following his gaze with careful hands to caress the length of her throat, the underside of her collar bone, and the curve of her breast. Betty's chest rose and fell as the thought came to her that she didn't need to wait for Jughead to make the first move. Clenching the muscles of her lifted leg, Betty pressed the two of them intimately together, feeling powerful when Jughead continued to buck shallowly after her impetus.

"What do these pants say, Juggy?" Betty inquired as she trailed her fingers lightly up his chest.

He tilted his torso towards her, his hand sliding up her back in search of her bra's clasp, but kept his eyes on hers.

"That you're… ready to ride a motorcycle?"

Betty smiled, stroking her hand up his neck and into the back of his hair. She pulled him in, pressing her cheek to his while she whispered in his ear.

"That I'm gonna be on top."

Jughead groaned, long and low, and unhooked her bra.

"We'll see about that."

His lips went to Betty's neck while he pushed the straps down her arms, tugging the thing out from between them to drop it off to the side. Betty unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing her hand against him to feel the hot swell behind his boxers. Jughead's hands took over, shoving the jeans down his hips and kicking them off. His fingers found the fastening she'd worked so hard to do up in the bathroom a few minutes ago, but it didn't annoy her when he undid it. Now she just wanted the pants off.

"This might be tricky," she said, panting a little out of eagerness and a little in anticipation of a potentially exhausting struggle.

"Don't worry," Jughead replied, dropping to his knees in front of her, "I'm motivated."

He winked and Betty's arousal soared. She wanted to fall onto his lap and rub against him, leather pants or no, but she forced herself to be patient. It was difficult when he peeled back the opening he'd unzipped and smoothed his hand into the space, using it as leverage to work the pants down from the inside. When Jughead got them over her hips and butt, Betty was tempted to stop him and ask how he'd managed it, but she realized he was taking her underwear down with her pants and she froze. Instead of dwelling on the fact that her bare _everything_ was right in front of Jughead's face (though he kept his eyes on his hands as he continued removing her clothing), Betty concentrated on watching him. How his hands moved over her legs, how he'd twitch his head to get that one low-hanging curl out of his eyes, how his dick stood, firm and obvious, in the front of his boxers. He lifted her feet, one at a time, to free her from the pants, then ran his hands back up her naked legs, finally raising his eyes to pour over her.

Jughead looked at her where Betty was most nervous for him to look, but he only did it for a second. Then, he rose and caught her in his arms, entangling them so thoroughly that Betty thought they might merge together and sink right into the wall. His mouth was back on hers and Betty was bold suddenly, hanging onto Jughead's shoulders and hopping up to wrap her legs around his hips. She knew she was wet, but she didn't know quite _how_ wet until she reached between them, tugging the front of Jughead's boxers down, and felt the side of his dick press against her core. His hips rolled, giving her clit a slippery stroke, and Betty let out a broken gasp.

"Ok. Ok, ok, ok," she mumbled, trying to catch her racing breath. "Your bedroom?"

Jughead kissed down her neck, his hands tracing all over her back. He didn't seem as concerned about location as she was. Betty lowered her feet to the floor, then bent and yanked Jughead's boxers the rest of the way down. His ankles were encircled and while he started to shuffle his underwear off, Betty hurried towards his room, suddenly giddy about her head start.

She halted herself, slapping a hand to the kitchen wall.

"Oh! Don't forget the…" she leaned around the corner and pointed to the condom box on the floor. Jughead, freed, scooped it up and ran after her. Betty squealed and bolted.

Caught up in her game, Betty flung herself into his room, but Jughead, approaching at the same speed, came crashing into her. For a second, she thought it might be awkward, then Jughead's eyes locked with hers and she saw the fearless lust there. Slowly, his gaze rolled down over her body and Betty didn't hide, she just stepped back, one foot at a time, until the back of her legs hit the bed. Jughead let out a shaky sigh and followed her. When she laid back, his hand stayed on her lower back, the other fishing the box open, fiddling, then shoving it off the side of the bed. She touched his narrow hips as he pressed his hand between her legs. His fingers slicked in her arousal, Jughead felt Betty cautiously, adding extra pressure to places that made her react with moans and gasps. Betty's hips began to sway as Jughead built up a rhythm against her clit, holding himself over her on one elbow. When he snuck a finger into her channel, pushing through her tightness, Betty grabbed Jughead's shoulder, her nails denting his skin.

He eased his finger in further, crooking it until Betty, eyes wide, cried out. Jughead grinned, the longer strands of his hair falling around his face. Betty couldn't tell what expression her own face was forming―all her attention was on what Jughead's hand was doing. He stroked at her from inside and brought his thumb down on her clit at the same time. Her own body confused her: she wanted to beg him to keep going and she wanted to run away. Betty's back began to lift off the bed, but Jughead kept his weight on her. She heard his uneven breaths by her ear and remembered he was in it with her. Relaxing her muscles, Betty let her legs fall open a little more, also releasing the tension from her hand so that she could run her palm over his shoulder rather than cutting into it like a knife.

Once she was calmer, reacting more readily to Jughead's every touch, Betty was able to notice that his body was still held taut above hers. Slipping her hand between them, she reached tentatively for his length, almost making Jughead collapse on top of her when her fingers quickly closed around it. He breathed out like she'd punched him in the gut and Betty took this as a vote of confidence, stroking him carefully and then more quickly. Jughead's hand came away from her center, which squeezed to mourn his absence. Gooey fingers gripped her hip and Betty brought her knees up to bracket Jughead's body. It felt very natural to her. Their eyes met and then Jughead was ripping open the wrapper and rolling the condom on with such seemingly practiced finesse (Betty glanced down to watch him do it) that she felt fleetingly jealous before she remembered that she was his first too. Apparently this was just another thing Jughead's fingers were good at.

Betty held him loosely around the waist, feeling the ridges of his ribs, as Jughead eased into her. She could feel her face distorting, yet the muscles between her legs fought her discomfort, drawing Jughead in with every ounce of effort they had. The rest of Jughead held her very gently, his breath rattling in and out like a hypothermia victim. Betty thought she would've liked to borrow a little of that numbness for the scratchy pain she was experiencing, but when Jughead started to pull out, her brain aligned a little more with her body and she wanted nothing more than for him to keep going. Which he did.

Jughead's eyes were on hers―when they were open―and the obvious effort it took for him to keep them that way had Betty smiling, then giggling quietly. Her body was calming and her giddiness returning; when Jughead opened his eyes to see her laughing, he looked playfully annoyed, but relieved.

"Are you laughing at me?" He stopped his slow thrusting. Betty shook her head.

"I'm just glad you're enjoying yourself."

Jughead's face fell.

"Are you not enjoying _your_ self?"

"Yes, of course I am, Juggy." She smiled up at him, touching his cheek.

"Not enough if you have energy to spare for giggling. Can you take more?"

"What do you mean?"

Betty stretched her arm above her head, feeling the ends of her tangling hair. Jughead grabbed her wrist and plunged into her a little sharper, and definitely faster. Betty shuddered. Jughead looked smug. He drove into her again and when she continued to react appreciatively, made it a steady pace. Betty found she actually had to grip his back now to have any measure of control, but the tingling feeling it was raising in her had her grinning with her eyes closed. He changed the angle, throwing his hips up a little more as he plunged into her. It sent Betty into a moan that took long seconds to cut off, after she realized she was the one making that noise. Betty's hips began responding instinctually as well, heaving her against Jughead each time he thrust inside. There was a mixture of concentration and joy on his face that left Betty marvelling, and then envious.

Laying her palm against his chest, Betty signalled for Jughead to slow long enough that she was able to hold his body tight to hers and roll. With his help―he grinned the whole time―Betty got him onto his back, then nervously sat up. Her shoulders tried to climb up to her ears.

"Hooooly shit," she whimpered, feeling Jughead's fully stiffened cock press into her in a way that felt entirely new. Betty sat back as gradually as she could, but the sensation didn't diminish. She squeezed her eyes shut, shifting her hips until she was settled in his lap in a way that felt right. When she opened her eyes, Jughead was staring at her, looking like he wanted to laugh the way she'd been a few minutes ago.

"You alright?" he asked, smirking. Betty narrowed her eyes.

"Listen," she poked her index finger into his chest, "if I can ride that motorcycle, I can ride you."

Jughead looked too stunned to reply, then he was too preoccupied to reply, his wide lips opening for nothing but moans as Betty rolled her hips forward and back. Buoyed by her own stated certainty, Betty took over, raising and lowering herself hesitantly and then rapidly. Jughead groaned out her name and dug his fingers into her hips, thrusting up to meet her as she rose and fell in his lap. Betty leaned over him, bracing her hands on his chest, then his shoulders, to make it more intimate, but Jughead caught her eye. His look was challenging. She could tell he wanted her to do what she wanted.

Betty sat back, working herself over him, angling her hips to orchestrate the collision of his dick with her g-spot, and rocking with short, sharp bumps. A sloppy grin spread over Jughead's face and Betty was thankful for his long arms when he reached up to shape his hands over her breasts and tug at her nipples. She planted one palm on his abs and his gaze was drawn to it, then past it. She felt a strange, primal thrill watching Jughead watch _her_. Her body was moving so easily over his, she almost didn't want it to end, except that she could tell she was working towards something.

With a creased forehead, Betty altered her pace, trying harder to get Jughead to hit right where she wanted him. Helpfully and without her vocalized request, Jughead slid one hand down her stomach to catch her clit between his fingers. Betty jumped a little, moaning, and rocked her hips with greater intention, trusting Jughead to do the work of keeping his fingers moving with her. He did it so well, dragging his fingertips in circles over her soaked clit, that Betty's head tipped back as she started to lose herself. Jughead pulled her down into his arms, forcing her back underneath him, and Betty clung to him, revelling in the sweat and smell of him as their chests stuck together and she let go.

"I love you, Betts," Jughead mumbled to her, then clamped his eyes shut in climax.

Betty held him to her, kissing his face while their strong heartbeats sent their ribcages slamming together even as they laid still. Jughead breathed deeply then shifted out and off of her to do away with the condom. He returned quickly, throwing the covers of the bed back. Betty rolled lazily into them and Jughead climbed in behind her, tossing the covers over the two of them. He wrapped his arm around her to pull her snugly against him, holding her in a way she never knew she'd longed to be held. Jughead tucked his chin over her shoulder, stroking his fingers up her stomach and between her breasts.

"I love you too, you know," she said. Jughead nodded against her.

"I know."

"I like what you did with my helmet." Betty turned her face so that he could see her grin.

"Yeah…" He trailed off, looking a little embarrassed.

"What?"

"You don't think it's too possessive? I just started doing it because it felt right."

"It's perfect. It feels right to me too. And," Betty said, turning over to face Jughead. He grabbed her top leg and pulled it over his, smirking. "I'm happy that I'll be able to ride with you."

"You could've kept using my helmet."

"That wouldn't have been very safe for _you_."

Jughead shrugged.

"Besides. It feels more permanent this way." She looked at him shyly and he grinned with secret happiness. "And I needed the protection, since I doubt I'll ever be able to wear those pants without you immediately trying to take them off."

Jughead laughed, shaking against her.

"Betty Cooper, always uncovering the truth."


End file.
